Fox's Glade thank goodness

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smoke watched her answer, the way she didn’t flinch from him this time. the wind cut between them again, sharp as glass, but she stayed— and that told him more than anything she’d said.

he gave a short nod, almost a shrug.

then stick with me, he said, simple as breath.

no pitch. no pressure. just the plain truth of a man who’d roamed long enough to know two wolves traveled easier than one.

foreign ground’s less mean that way.

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